


Social Lubrication

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Baseball, Drugs, Gen, Homophobic Language, Idiot manchildren, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-14 03:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/144622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Drunk college girls are easy.  Drunk college guys are even easier.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Social Lubrication

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clayshaw](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=clayshaw).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, [**SHEEP_MAMBO**](http://sheep_mambo.livejournal.com/)! Sorry this ended up so plotless and pornless (despite the first line). But I wrote it in one night! WOO! Thanks to [**unreckless**](http://unreckless.livejournal.com/) for betaing this and offering up a title suggestion.
> 
> **ETA** And then they became teammates.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

Drunk college girls are easy. Drunk college guys are even easier.

Dan doesn’t do this _all_ the time and he probably couldn’t, anyway. He’s lucky enough that most of the kids don’t recognize him and then start wondering what a Major League pitcher is doing, slumming it at their parties.

It’s easier, though. The college kids look at him with stars in their eyes, and do pretty much whatever he asks of them. It’s not ideal, but it works.

He’s been accosted random frat kids all night, mostly drunk wannabe jocks who are friends with guys on the baseball team, and he’s looking for a challenge. They say, _Swear to God, you look just like that guy, the one who came over in the trade_ , but they rarely get his name right. They act like his best friend, act like they’ve known him for years and try to get Myspace-ish pictures with him, but he kindly declines. He makes up his mind to avoid the ones that _do_ recognize him for the rest of the night, lest they see him doing some unsavory things - or people.

The guy he’s picked out is tall and whippet-thin, looks like he’ll fill out soon enough, and kind of jug-eared. He has strong looking forearms, and Dan wonders if he plays ball. The kid is clutching a red plastic cup in both his hands, like he’s afraid someone will try to take it from him. He looks like he probably shouldn’t be drinking whatever’s in that cup.

“Hey,” he says to the kid. “You know where I can score some weed?”

The kid looks at him and raises his eyebrows, mouth pulling down at the corners. “I _look_ like I know where you can score some weed, bro?” he asks, raising the cup to his lips and sipping.

He doesn’t seem to recognize him, which is a plus. There’s no knowing flash behind his eyes, no _Oh, you’re_ that _guy. The one we got from Oakland_. Dan is encouraged and emboldened.

The music at this party is loud and obnoxious, makes his head hurt. It thumps counter to his heartbeat. This skinny, jug-eared kid bobs his head to it.

“That a yes or a no?” Dan asks.

The kid shrugs and lowers his plastic cup. “You haven’t been to any of Dan’s other parties,” he says, flicking suspicious eyes on him.

“Dan?” He hikes his eyebrows.

“Schlereth. You obviously don’t go to Arizona. You look too old, anyways,” the kid scoffs. He sips at whatever’s in his cup. “What’s your name? I’m Ryan.”

“My name’s Dan too, actually.”

Ryan laughs. “No fuckin’ way.”

“It’s a common name,” Dan says, just shrugging. This kid looks like he’s going to be a tough nut to crack. Usually, he would have had him in the back of his car by now, or on his knees in an alley somewhere. “You on the team?”

“Yeah. I’ll probably get drafted this June,” he says, in a nonchalant, almost dismissive tone.

“You sure sound excited,” Dan replies evenly.

Ryan shrugs and scratches at the back of his neck. “It’s all I been hearing about since the season started. It gets old after a while.” He looks down at his cup and then at Dan. “You still interested in the weed?”

-

Ryan leads him outside to a pickup truck parked in front of the apartments. It has Arizona Wildcat stickers all over the back windshield; it even has a team mascot decal on the bumper.

“Wait here.” He opens the passenger door and starts rummaging through the glove box before coming up with a Ziploc baggie of joints. “I’ll give you one for free, since I’m such a nice guy.” He pinches one between his thumb and forefinger and extends the joint to Dan.

“As a token of your goodwill?” Dan snags it from him and digs a lighter out of his pocket.

“Yeah, that.” Ryan snorts, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arms. “Kinda chilly out.”

Dan rolls his eyes. “I’ve lived in Missouri. I don’t have any sympathy for you, college boy.”

Ryan scowls at him. “Whatever.”

Dan flicks the lid off the lighter and gestures to the pickup. “Maybe we should be doing this in there. Just in case.”

“Then my truck’ll smell like pot.” Ryan wrinkles his nose in distaste.

“Or we can do it out here, where anybody could see,” Dan says.

Ryan sighs and looks around quickly before opening the passenger’s side door. “All right. Fine.” He hops in and slides behind the wheel, and Dan climbs in behind him. Once Dan’s inside, Ryan turns on the radio and leans across Dan to open the glove box. He digs out a CD case and shuts the glove box. “Might as well put on some mood music.”

Dan looks over at him, flicking the lid on and off the lighter. _Click click click_. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Ryan looks at him, eyes widening, appropriately appalled. “That’s fuckin’ _wrong_ , dude.”

There’s something about his tone, though. Something that makes Dan think he doesn’t really mean it.

“You sure about that, Ryan?”

Ryan shoves a CD into his stereo and cranks up the volume. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure.” Hard rock that Dan doesn’t recognize starts blasting out of the speakers. _Decisions made from desperation. No way to go._ Ryan bobs his head to the music. “You a fag or something, dude? You didn’t strike me as the type.”

Now it’s Dan’s turn to scoff. “No, I’m not a _fag_.” He raises his hand so that Ryan can see his wedding band. “I like to let off a little steam from time to time, is all.”

“How’s the wife feel about you going around, creepin’ on college kids?” Ryan asks.

“It’s not exactly something I brag about to her,” Dan says. “Anyway, your questions are interrupting my attempts to get into your pants.”

Ryan laughs and skips to the next song. “So, you weren’t really interested in the pot?”

“No. Normally I’m already in somebody’s pants by now. You’ve proven to be unusually resistant.”

Ryan turns the music up a little bit. “Yeah, well, you’re not getting into my pants, dude.”

“You know what I do for a living?” Dan asks. He hates playing this card, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“No, but I suppose you’re gonna tell me,” Ryan says, turning in his seat towards Dan and smirking at him.

“I play pro ball,” Dan says. “For the Diamondbacks. Kind of surprised you don’t know who I am, actually.”

“Could I _give_ less of a fuck about the Diamondbacks?” Ryan tosses his head back and laughs some more, and Dan admires the line of his throat. “I was born in Pomona. I kinda had no choice but to like the Dodgers.”

“Not the Angels? They’re closer to Pomona than L.A.,” Dan points out.

“More tradition with the Dodgers, bro. And also Vin Scully.” Ryan grins at him.

“I grew up in West Covina,” Dan says. “So we pretty much grew up in each other’s backyards.”

“Kinda,” Ryan says, drawing his knee to his chest. He wraps his arms around it. “You haven’t tried to seduce me yet.”

“This whole thing with the pot was supposed to be the attempt at seduction,” Dan says. “Couldn’t find an opening.”

“That’s what she - ”

Dan cuts him off. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”

“ - said.” Ryan beams, looking proud of himself. “I’m just a college kid, dude. I don’t know any better.”

Dan rolls his eyes and leans forward, tucking the joint behind Ryan’s ear. “All right. Shut up, then, and let me take it from here.”

Ryan clamps his mouth shut and Dan smiles, sliding his hand down to the kid’s neck. He pulls him a little closer and presses his lips over Ryan’s. It’s gentle, way more gentle than Dan is used to. But he kind of likes this kid.

Ryan reaches up, fingers finding Dan’s hair. His mouth is cool, and his tongue still tastes like cheap bear. They break apart briefly and even in the dim wash of light from the streetlights outside, Dan can see that the kid’s pupils are dark. He wraps his hand around the back of the kid’s neck and pulls him in for a second kiss, throwing everything into it. If the first kiss was his four-seamer, this kiss is his splitter, his go-to pitch.

Ryan makes this soft noise at the back of his throat and Dan feels encouraged. He slips his other hand under his t-shirt.

Ryan jerks away like he was shot out of a cannon, breathing hard. “Dude, I can’t - ”

“Can’t what?” Dan asks, brain screeching to a halt.

“I can’t, you know. I mean, I’m not even gay.” Ryan swallows hard.

“Neither am I,” he reminds him.

Ryan scrubs his hands into his hair. “My career. If somebody saw.”

“You seemed pretty cavalier about the draft before,” Dan says, mildly amused. “Now you care?”

“I _care_. It’s just, what if someone sees? My career could be over before it even begins.”

“ _Your_ career? I’m already in the Majors. I think I’m liable to go down in flames long before you, kid,” Dan laughs.

Ryan drops his hands in his lap. “You got a point.”

“So? How about it?” Dan asks.

Ryan looks at him again, eyes uncertain, lines creasing at the corners of his mouth. “I dunno. I like you. You’re, like, the first adult who’s talked to me about my career and didn’t make me want to put a metal spike through my eye.”

Dan raises an eyebrow. “Adult?”

“Well, yeah. You’re older’n me. Hence, adult.” Ryan rolls his eyes.

Dan shakes his head. “You’re about to get cockblocked.”

“I think I kinda cockblocked myself back there, actually,” Ryan says, laughing. He reaches out and closes his hand loosely around Dan’s knee.

Dan sits back a little and examines the kid. He has a nice face. That was one of the things they - the scouts - looked for, oddly enough. “I think you’ll be fine this summer,” he says, “with the draft.”

“You think?” Ryan looks at him and sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He’s nervous; Dan’s seen this before, with some of the rookies at spring camp.

“Yeah. You look like a pro ballplayer. That’s half the battle,” Dan jokes. “You got a good four-seamer?”

“It’s pretty fucking awesome, if I do say so myself.” Ryan smirks, smugly.

Dan laughs. “What else do you throw?”

“I got a slider,” Ryan says, fingers shifting into the grip for the slider on Dan’s knee. “It’s my out pitch.”

Dan grins at the feel of Ryan’s fingers on his knee. “I could show you the grip for the cutter.”

“My four-seamer’s kinda like a cutter,” Ryan says, waving his hand through the air like an airplane or, in this case, a cut fastball. “It moves all over the place. Dwight, my catcher, he says I’m the hardest one on our staff to catch.” He puffs his chest out in pride.

Dan laughs some more. “Sounds like you don’t need my expertise, then.”

“Guess not.” Ryan smirks a little and slips his other hand from Dan’s knee.

It feels like the moment, the brief window where Dan thought he was going to get to fuck this kid has passed, but he doesn’t mind. He’s struck out before.

“I should probably get going then.” Dan tucks his lighter into his pocket.

“Yeah?” Ryan looks at him again, reaching up and scratching at the back of his neck some more.

“Yeah.” He leans in and gives Ryan a kiss to remember him by. “When you speak of me, speak well.”

The kid starts laughing. “You did not just whip out some lame-ass movie quote on me.”

“ _Bull Durham_ isn’t lame,” Dan says, leaning back, smiling. “See you around, kid.”

“See ya around.” He tips two fingers at him in a salute, and Dan does the same.

Dan gets out of the kid’s truck and wipes his hands off on his jeans. He feels slightly, vaguely unfulfilled, but it’s not like he can’t just find somebody else. There are plenty of girls - and guys - inside. Dan heads back for the apartment and casts a glance over his shoulder, at Ryan’s truck. He has a feeling he’ll be seeing that kid again, and real soon.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


End file.
